


Slipped Away

by phantomhivemast3r



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomhivemast3r/pseuds/phantomhivemast3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel finds a letter from his father, written before the fire that destroyed their home three years ago. It brings up a surge of memories and emotions that Ciel wishes he could forget with all his heart… However, some things are not meant to be forgotten. A songfic, based on the track: "Slipped Away" by Avril Lavigne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipped Away

** Slipped Away **

The teal-haired boy sat down at his desk, sighing heavily at the mound of paperwork in front of him. Moments later, a butler clothed in black and grey entered the study, carrying a tray full of tea and various sweets.

“My Lord,” the butler said, his dark eyes gleaming mischievously.

The boy glanced up briefly as the confections were placed on his desk, assessed the tray of petite cakes, and then waved his butler away with a slight flick of the wrist. The red-eyed servant paused, a small smile lighting up his devilishly calm features.

“My Lord, I found this whilst cleaning out some of the furniture I managed to salvage from the fire,” the man said, placing an envelope in front of his Young Master. It was slightly charred around the edges, but otherwise intact; the front was addressed:

_To My Dearest Ciel, From Your Father_

The boy gazed at it blankly for a few seconds and then suddenly snatched it from the tabletop with great ferocity, nearly tearing the entire thing in half to get to the paper inside. Pulling out the letter, Ciel began to read silently to himself.

_My Dearest Son,_

_If you receive this letter, it means that I am unable to be there for your tenth birthday. I write this with a heavy heart, for I know that this birthday marks the start of your transformation into a young man, and I regret that I am not able to be there to share this momentous day with you. I had been planning to take you and your mother out to the fair in London, and when it got dark we were going to take a lovely stroll down the Thames, just as I had promised you many months ago. Sadly, I am unable to keep this promise. It grieves me that I am not able to be there for you and your dear mother, but I know that you both are strong and will be able to get through this._

_Do not let the pain of my death linger on in your heart, for that will only lead to the need for revenge-a heavy, heavy burden to carry. I wish for you to live as peacefully as possible; the ones responsible for my death were only after me, so I do not have much fear that they will come after a child such as yourself. All the same, it is best to be a bit more wary of strangers than usual, and even more so of people who try to get close to you too quickly._

_But this letter is now straying from the point; I wanted you to know that I love you with all of my heart, my wonderful Ciel. You are the greatest gift God has ever given me, along with your beautiful, kind mother. I only wish I could be there to see you grow older, but I know that you will still be able to live a strong, successful life as the head of the Phantomhive household without me. Keep your spirits alive, Ciel, and never lose hope; all of your endeavors will succeed if you keep this in mind. I guarantee it._

_I must begin to close this letter now, for I am afraid my tears will stain the paper if I write for much longer. My little Ciel, please remember that what happened to me was in no way either you or your mother’s fault; I am the only one to blame. I did what I did to protect you- I know this means nothing to you now, but when you are older Tanaka will explain everything. Just know that I love you and your mother dearly, and though it pains me to no end, I must regretfully say goodbye one last time. Take care of your mother, my dear son, and stay strong._

_Your Father,_

_Vincent Phantomhive_

Ciel stared at the letter long after he’d finished reading it, his vision becoming increasingly cloudier the longer he gazed at the paper clutched tightly in his hands. His butler frowned, a concerned expression etched across his handsome features.

“My Lord?” Ciel looked up instinctively at the question. He immediately wished that he had not done so, for he was greeted with the all-too-familiar sight of his father’s face gazing back at him with a pair of unnaturally red eyes. He glared hard at his butler, hating that the Demon had chosen such familiar facial features when trying to appear in a “suitable form” to walk around in the human world.

How _dare_ he? How _dare_ he disgrace the man Ciel had looked up to as both a father and a friend by wearing the man’s face as if it were some sort of comical mask?

“Get out.” Ciel’s tone was commanding, unquestionable, yet the butler remained standing in the center of the room.

“Young Lord, perhaps-”

“ _Get out_ , Sebastian! That’s an order!” Taken aback by the sudden ferocity in his Master’s tone, the butler quickly retreated from the room, wondering what in the world had been in that letter to make his Young Master behave so rashly.

Once the door had closed shut behind Sebastian, Ciel carefully set the letter on the table and buried his face in his hands. The tears that had been lurking in his vision instantly began streaming down his cheeks, staining them with clear, wet lines.

_Na na, na na na na na._

_I miss you, miss you so bad._

_I don’t forget you, oh it’s so sad._

_I hope you can hear me._

_I remember it clearly…_

Images of that horrible day flashed into his mind- the day he found his parents in the living room, sitting in their favorite armchair and couch among the smoke and ash. They were hardly recognizable to anyone… except their son, of course, who knew them like no other being could ever know them.

“I couldn’t protect Mum,” Ciel said through his sobs, his shoulders beginning to shake uncontrollably. “She died with you, Father… Sh-she died…”

_The day you slipped away,_

_Was the day I found it won’t be the same._

_Oh…_

Young Ciel wandered down the hall, called by the scent of burning smoke. He presumed it was the candles on his birthday cake; after all, his dad had promised him a _huge_ cake with lots and lots of icing, and Ciel was allowed to eat all that he wanted because it was his birthday- his Mum had promised him he could. Quickly, though, his ten-year-old senses told him that something was _very_ wrong; this smell was much worse than a few candles burning down their wicks…

_Na na, na na na na na._

_I didn’t get around to kiss you,_

_Goodbye on the hand._

Upon opening the sitting room door, the first thing young Ciel noticed was his father’s ring resting on the arm of his favorite chair- the one that they sat in every night, Ciel in his father’s lap, as they read a story before the child’s mother ushered him off to bed. The ring was no longer resting on his father’s hand, however; it was on a lump of charcoal that vaguely resembled a finger. Young Ciel opened his mouth to scream…

_I wish that I could see you again._

_I know that I can’t._

Twelve-year-old Ciel lifted his face from his hands and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Father… Father, why didn’t you _tell_ me?!” His face twisted into a grimace of pain and regret; his hands clenched into fists on the desk.

_Oh,_

_I hope you can hear me,_

_‘Cause I remember it clearly…_

The memory of young Ciel returned jarringly.

Running over to the chair, the boy saw a frontal view of the figure sitting there. What used to be his father was now a human-shaped pile of ash, the features of his once-handsome face completely dissolved away by the flames. Young Ciel knew the flames were burning him, too, but he did not care. He had to make sure, had to know that this was indeed his father. He reached out a tiny hand towards the charred figure…

_The day you slipped away,_

_Was the day I found it won’t be the same._

_Oh…_

Young Ciel’s hand brushed where the man’s face was supposed to be, and the figure instantly crumbled into ash. Young Ciel screamed again as the blue and silver ring clattered to the floor; though the rush of flames coating the room was extremely loud, the sound of the ring hitting the floor was clear as day to the small boy.

He glanced at the other figure on the couch, the blanket she had been embroidering for her son still sitting on her lap, the baby blue color now flecked with black dust. Young Ciel wanted to touch her as well, but he knew that she would end up the same way as his father. He tried to scream again, but he could not seem to catch his breath.

Suddenly, he was very aware of the smoke filling up his asthmatic lungs. He began to cough violently…

_I had my wake up._

_Won’t you wake up?_

_I keep asking “why?”_

Twelve-year-old Ciel slammed his hand down on the desk, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. However, his mind refused to rest; it insisted on replaying the events of that horrible day until it had gotten to the end…

_And I can’t take it._

_It wasn’t fake._

_It happened, you passed by…_

The room was starting to close in on young Ciel. Everything was becoming black- black like his parents ashes, laying idly on the chair and the couch. Suddenly, the door burst open and a group of people ran into the room. Young Ciel didn’t know who they were, couldn’t think of what they could possibly be doing here; he was too consumed by what had just happened to his parents, his house, his life. All he knew was that the strange people were dressed in white, and he felt their hands tugging him out of the room…

_Now you’re gone, now you’re gone._

_There you go, there you go._

_Somewhere I can’t bring you back._

Young Ciel struggled weakly. He did not _want_ to leave; he wanted to stay with his parents. With his mother and father, where it was safe. He knew his dad would not _really_ have left him like that; it must have been some sort of morbid trick. But as the blackness closed around him, young Ciel got one last look at the ring lying on the floor, surrounded by ash and flames, and knew that this was no trick.

His mother and father were dead. Gone, just like that.

_Now you’re gone, now you’re gone._

_There you go, there you go._

_Somewhere you’re not coming back._

Twelve-year-old Ciel snapped out of his memories with a gasp. He realized that his cheeks were once again tainted with fresh tears- tears brought about from reliving the awful feelings he had had when he realized his parents were in fact gone for good.

“I haven’t cried in two years, and yet something as simple as this has the ability to make me weep like a child,” he said to himself quietly, staring down at the letter. A tiny, ghostly smile tugged on the corner of his mouth as he examined the streaks of salty water making the ink run down the paper like black tears.

“Father was worried about getting it wet with his tears, yet I’ve just drenched the whole thing.” His mouth settled into a frown once more and he took a shaky breath.

_The day you slipped away,_

_Was the day I found it won’t be the same._

_No…_

“How can you tell me not to worry about revenge?” Ciel asked quietly. He suddenly raised his voice, speaking to the entire room as if daring anyone, anyone at all to talk back to him. “How?! I _will_ find out who did this to you and Mum, even if it kills me.”

His eyes were set, determined.

_The day you slipped away,_

_Was the day I found it won’t be the same._

_Oh…_

Abruptly, Ciel’s face fell. He covered it with his hands again, squeezing out the last bit of tears that lurked around the edge of his vision.

“I _will_ avenge you, Father,” he said, his voice cracking only once. Then his tone straightened and he gazed at the letter determinately. “I love you, Mother, Father. I love you both so much. But most of all, Father, I…”

_Na na, na na na na na._

“More than anything, Father…              

_I miss you.”_


End file.
